Of Dogs, And Rats, And Growing Up
by Hoodoo
Summary: The four brothers keep track of some people who have entered their tunnels, see some disturbing things, and report back to Splinter. Mild character study, and rated for moderate violence.


It's been a long time since I dabbled in the TMNT realm, but certain catalysts in my life (including the activity the brothers spy on here) have nudged me back towards it. I'll admit I had some difficulty with their voices and characterizations, until something stuck me: in this story, Leo, Raph, Donny, and Mikey are young teenagers, not quite grown into themselves yet.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The dogs are back."

Those three words, softly spoken like a secret—as if their Father's ears weren't the most sensitive of all of them—sent shivers down their spines. It shouldn't; the dogs weren't a threat to them, but it meant _people_.

Leonardo contemplated Raphael's announcement for a moment, then turned to Donatello. Donny gave a weak shrug.

"We should go and watch, to make sure we know where they are."

That was exactly what Leo thought his level-headed brother would say. He dreaded the rationality behind it, but had to agree.

He nodded. "Yes. Gear up. But they aren't going to know we are there. We'll have no _altercations."_

The last order was directed towards Raphael, who had once kicked one of the dogs when it got too close to him. The resulting crying yelp brought people running with lots of flashlights and questions and worry. It did not result in the people not bringing the dogs into the tunnels again, although they were much more wary now and the dogs were kept on leash.

Raphael nodded curtly, even if personally he thought it may be best to eliminate the intruders permanently.

As his brothers collected weapons and adornments, Leonardo made his way to his Father's private alcove. Splinter was, as expected, meditating.

"Sensei," he said quietly.

Splinter's ear flicked, and he opened his eyes. "Yes, my son?"

"Raphael reports that people have brought dogs in again. We are going out to monitor their whereabouts."

Black eyes were difficult to read. This was nothing new to Leonardo.

"Please be cautious, my son."

Leonardo waited, as if he expected something more, but Splinter did not continue. He bowed.

"Yes, Sensei. Of course."

* * *

The four of them made their way through the tunnels, following the echoes and noise to pinpoint their targets. Even with their training, they were extra vigilant in these close quarters; these particular people with dogs and flashlights also looked up to the ceilings and in each possible recess in the stonework. The dogs themselves poised a tricky problem because even highly skilled ninja could not evade their sense of smell. If one of the dogs caught their scent and was truly insistent, its handler would allow it to investigate. They had learned that the hard way.

This time they crept carefully and soon they were finally close enough to see everything. The dogs were leashed, of course, so even though a few turned their heads towards them, only one took a few steps closer and cocked its head intently.

Looking over the people and dogs, Leonardo recognized several from the previous times they'd come down here. The dog that was still focused on them he'd seen before too, and it was the one he fretted about most. It never barked, like the other dogs in the pack, but did its work silently and with great zeal.

While the rest of the dogs nosed and whined around backwash of garbage, this noiseless canine watched the four of them.

Raphael knew better than to speak, but he put his hand on Leo's shoulder as if to warn him back.

But just then, a cry came up from the group of people, and the pitch of a dog's bark changed. The rest of the pack, including the one that had been looking at them, converged on something that the people were trying to illuminate with the beams of their flashlights. There was a scuffle, and a thin sharp cry, and one dog was pulled away with a dead thing in its mouth.

"Another!" someone shouted.

The flashlights refocused, and another darting movement brought the dogs on it.

This time the silent dog dispatched the rat, grabbing and shaking it in quick movements.

Raphael's hold on Leonardo's shoulder tightened.

The brothers stayed and watched the dogs exterminate a few more rats from the pile. The people took the dead rodents from their dogs and each dog was praised enthusiastically. Finally the nest of rodents had been destroyed.

It was a good hunt, the brothers heard.

The people took their dogs away then, even as some of the canines pulled against their leashes in their eagerness to continue. The silent dog, the one that seemed so odd compared to the barking, frantic terriers, looked to the four observers again, but it was picked up by a woman, who praised and hugged it close to her face as she followed the other people away.

They were loud coming into the tunnels; they were raucous heading out.

"We should go," Raph breathed into Leonardo's ear. "Mikey's feeling sick."

Leo nodded. Michelangelo wasn't the only one feeling sick after watching the slaughter.

* * *

The four of them made their way back to their home almost as quietly as they left. Their Father was waiting for them when they returned.

"Were you seen?" he asked, as if it were actually a question they would answer in the positive.

"No, Sensei," three answered automatically.

"Michelangelo?" Splinter asked the youngest. "You look pale."

Mikey hung his head a moment, then blurted out, "It's awful, Sensei! The dogs, killing all those—things, and the people! They're always so happy when their dogs do it! Are they psychos? Do they really like all the killing? What is _wrong_ with people?!"

"Michelangelo," Splinter said, but Leonardo said the name at the same time, and his voice was louder.

"We don't talk about this, Mikey, remember?" the eldest brother continued. His tone was firm. "We go out and monitor them, but there's no need to rehash the entire event. It's upsetting enough as it is."

The corners of Mikey's mouth dropped even further, and he started to turn away.

"No. Leonardo, Michelangelo. If it is disturbing, it should not be pushed aside. We will discuss it."

Even if Michelangelo wanted his questions answered, the thought of talking about it wasn't what he expected. From the expressions on everyone else's faces, they weren't keen on the idea either. However, they were disciplined enough to obey their Father's order, and the four of them sat down without arguing.

When none of them offered to start, Splinter prompted them.

"Tell me what you saw."

Still no one spoke.

Splinter waited, then addressed one specifically.

"Donatello. Tell me what you saw."

Singled out and surprised he was chosen, Donatello straightened before beginning. "There were five people, Sensei. They had seven dogs with them. That's one more than they had last time. There was a large mound of garbage—it seemed like paper and some organic material—that they were focused on. They must have entered from the east because that's the direction they took when they left."

"Yeah," Raphael agreed. "I heard them come down the tunnel that way."

Donny nodded. "They must have had special permission to come down here again, because it's usually only sanitation workers or other public service people."

"Were they employed by the city?"

Donatello didn't have an answer for this, so Leonardo replied,

"I don't think so. They didn't have any type of uniform or badge."

Splinter nodded.

"They took some samples," Donny continued. "One man was measuring them, and he clipped samples from . . . well."

"Yes, Donatello?" Splinter encouraged.

Donny dropped his head. He took a sideways glance toward Leo and Raph, who was slowly shaking his head, and then to Mikey on his other side, who was refusing to look at anything but his hands. Donny clenched his fists and blurted,

"He took their tails, Sensei! The man took the dead ones and cut off their tails!"

The four sitting before their Father either flinched or held their breath, as if they expected some wrath to come down on them.

But Splinter only nodded. "And why do you think he did such a thing?"

Out of all of them, only Donatello might have an idea of an answer, so he was the only one who tried to respond. "For data," he said. "He's collecting data. I can't tell you what it's for, though, because there are too many variables."

"Yes," Splinter agreed, then turned to Leonardo and Raphael. "And you? What did you observe?"

Resigned to this discussion, Leo said, "Donny was right, there was a new dog in the pack. But there was also that one that always seems odd to me. It never makes any noise—"

"The one with the curly tail?" Raphael interrupted.

"Yes, that's the one. It noticed us tonight, but when the rest of them found what they were looking for, it jumped into the fray. Tonight it killed a—"

"Why are we talking about this?!" Michelangelo exploded.

Although his brothers jumped at his outburst, Splinter merely turned towards his youngest son. Mikey continued loudly,

"This is _horrible._ It's insane! You can't seriously want to sit here and discuss that we watched people brutally killing—they were just letting their dogs attack and it was so _cruel . . ._ you can't really want us to tell you—"

"Mikey!" Leonardo admonished again, but this time Splinter held his hand up to silence him.

"Michelangelo, please finish your sentence."

Once again, Mikey hung his head.

"Michelangelo?" Splinter urged.

Finally Michelangelo looked up again. The expression on his face was distressed, but he obeyed.

"You can't really want us to tell you about those people and dogs _killing rats,"_ he said bluntly.

If he expected his Father to be taken aback or horrified by what he just said, he was disappointed. But the floodgates that had cracked at his first exclamation when they returned were completely broken down now.

"Those people come down into our tunnels and hunt rats," Mikey repeated, his voice raised. "They're loud and the dogs are crazy. They just go nuts for it. And the people love it! They act like they're doing such an awesome thing, and it's so _awful._ It makes me sick! I hate it!"

As strong as his anger had been at the beginning, it stumbled towards halfway through and Mikey had to take a shaky breath by the end. His final admission was trembly and he didn't care that his brothers saw him wipe a hand over his eyes to remove the tears that had welled up.

"Michelangelo," Splinter said once again. As many times as he called his son by name this night, this time was the most tender. He waited until Mikey had the strength to look at him again before continuing. "My son. I am sorry it distresses you so. I am sorry that you have to witness such things. I wish there was no violence and that all could live in peace—"

"This isn't just violence, it's deliberate _murder!"_

Splinter waited another moment for Michelangelo to collect himself again.

"Do you understand why I allow you to monitor these people?"

Michelangelo ground his teeth as if he wanted to shout something more, but finally answered as if by rote,

"So we can practice, Sensei. So we can put the skills you've taught us to actual use. Silent observation, silent movements. So we can see but not be seen."

"Very good," Splinter praised. "That is one excellent reason. Are there others?"

Here he looked to all of them again. They were all too disciplined to shift during the uncomfortable silence that followed. After keeping quiet for several beats too long, as if an internal debate took extra time to find an acceptable response, Raphael said,

"You want to know where these people go. You want to make sure they aren't getting to close to where we live."

Splinter agreed. "Yes. You have always been exceptional at scouting potential threats, Raphael."

That was high commendation from their Father, and typically Raphael would gloat, but Splinter didn't give him time. He turned back to Michelangelo instead.

"However, I don't believe we are addressing the crux of your distress, Michelangelo. May I take the liberty of making assumptions?"

The question was more courtesy than not, as if any of them would say no.

"I believe witnessing the people and dogs killing rats—"

The four flinched again, and Donny gasped as if he couldn't believe his Father would say the words aloud. Splinter ignored their shock.

"—has upset you because you are concerned with how I may feel about the subject. You project that, as I am a rat, dogs being encouraged by people to hunt other rats is something that would strike me as barbaric, or even something I would take personally. As if those people were slaying my family."

For their Father to be so forthcoming and direct surprised them all. Even Leonardo, who worked hard to be collected in all things found himself gaping a bit. Once again, Splinter overlooked the fact he'd stunned his sons.

"Is this correct, Michelangelo?"

Mikey swallowed before he was able to reply. "Yes, Sensei." He paused and took a breath before starting again. "I . . ."

He didn't continue, but this time Splinter didn't impel him to finish. Instead, their Father continued,

"I can appreciate that this is surprising to you all. Our circumstance is unique and can be a difficult one. What I want you to understand is that yes, I am a rat. But the rodents that live in this city, the opportunistic rodents that follow wherever the best chance for survival may be, are vermin."

As if he'd used the foulest profanity, his audience gasped. But he did not allow them to interject their arguments against the word or dismay that he'd used it.

"Rats serve a purpose, yes, as do all creatures. But they also contribute to disease and degradation. Even though I am a rat, I do not want this vermin in my home. Other forms of elimination of rats exist—poison, for example, but that carries its own setbacks. In lieu of solutions that may create further problems, I believe that disposing of these rats with dogs is acceptable."

This declaration seemed to shake them all to their core, but gradually Donatello, then Leonardo nodded. Raphael took another moment or two to process this information, but eventually he gave a silent agreement as well. Splinter knew he would have to have to speak to them privately to answer any additional questions they may have, but they'd been through enough tonight and he gave them permission to leave.

Michelangelo, however, still sat slouched and withdrawn. He made the motion to rise, like the rest did, but Splinter stilled him with an upraised hand. Once the rest had left, he said,

"My son, I think there is more to your anger than I have answered. Your passion for life and natural optimism has put you at odds with that you perceive as detestable butchery. We can, if you would like, discuss what I may do to help ease your distress in this matter."

Mikey thought for a moment about the teasing he'd take from the others if they suspected how disturbed he'd been. He thought about the life they had to live, and the trials Splinter must had had to endure to keep them all safe. He thought about everything he'd been taught and what he'd learned once his world had expanded passed these tunnels. Splinter was his Father and Sensei, but in a rush of revelation he realized that his Master was still a student too. Splinter was still learning.

The worry, not that rats were being killed, but that dogs and people would find their home? The concern that his youngest son was having difficulty with what he witnessed? Splinter had no other resource, no other support in his life. Everything that Splinter did or passed on to them he had to do on his own. And now his charges were growing up, and where would that leave him?

It all struck Michelangelo like a sledgehammer, and though a sudden rush of tears, he couldn't answer anything but yes.

So the two sat together on the cold floor, father and son, teacher and student, and spoke in low tones. Eventually someone—Leonardo, probably, but it may have been either of the other two—set a chipped teapot full of tea and two cups near them, but didn't interrupt. The talk lasted longer than Michelangelo remembered speaking to his Sensei before, but it was comforting, and by the end, he was thankful for the opportunity.

 _fin._


End file.
